


Dream Date

by meguri_aite



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, gambare yachi!!, yachi's thoughts are a trainwreck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6515362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meguri_aite/pseuds/meguri_aite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>It was kind of pathetic. An itty bitty pathetic obsession that hurt absolutely no one. Her dignity didn’t count, because a) what was dignity even and b) who cared.<br/></p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mio_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mio_chan/gifts).



Yachi Hitoka gave herself one last look in the mirror, shook her head to see the ornaments on her hair tie bounce and reflect light, tugged at the straps of her bag, inspected the hem of her shirt, and found the overall look to be acceptable, if below desired, for a completely imaginary date.

She wiped her suddenly damp hands dry on  her shorts. It was for the best that the date was imaginary, because her heart would most certainly have burst at anything remotely more real.

It was kind of pathetic. An itty bitty pathetic obsession that hurt absolutely no one. Her dignity didn’t count, because a) what was dignity even and b) who cared.

No one, that’s who. No one who had eyes and could look at Shimizu, and watch Shimizu tuck strands of hair behind her ear and shape her mouth around words (urgh) and do things with her hands (guhh), even if it was just something simple like decorating Karasuno banners, would have begrudged Hitoka even a second of her wild daydreaming.

Of course, when Shimizu had kindly suggested that the two of them work together on a new banner - a surprise for the team before their next match - she had had absolutely no idea she was giving a perfect excuse for Hitoka’s imagination to run wild.

"No harm done," Hitoka whispered as she made her way to the school with a spring in her step. "Just two girlfriends meeting for a date - erm, I mean, two managers working on a banner, ehehe."

As expected, Hitoka found Shimizu at their secret base of operations which moonlighted as the imaginary date venue - a place others knew only as an empty Home Economics classroom on the second floor.  Shimizu was already making herself busy, head bent over the needlework, the sheen of her smooth hair hiding her eyes from view. Hitoka's heart promptly melted into a puddle of goo in boundless gratefulness for being allowed the privilege of close access to this divine beauty - in other words, assumed its natural state while in Shimizu's presence.

"Hitoka-chan, you're early!" the exquisite Shimuzu said.

 _I rushed to see your beautiful face_ , Hitoka’s brain suggested, and supplied a mental image of a pretty blush of pleasure tinting Shimizu's cheeks at those words.

"I'm sorry! I didn't want to be late!" Hitoka’s mouth blurted out. "I'm sorry for the trouble!"

Shimizu shook her head and smiled beautifully, putting all of Hitoka’s daydreams to shame. Hitoka was weak, so she imagined the sweet smile meant Shimizu was glad to see her, too.

"No, no, no trouble! I came earlier myself to see if I could practice the stitches for a bit." Shimizu fiddled with a scrap of fabrics that was still in her hands. "I'm afraid I'm not that good with handicraft."

She laughed with what could have been embarrassment in a less perfect human being, but was clearly just another point on the long list of Shimizu Kiyoko's charms.

"I'm probably much worse!" Hitoka flailed. The Hitoka who co-starred with Shimizu in Hitoka's daydreams would have probably said something way smoother, or maybe held Shimizu's hands in her own and earnestly convinced Shimizu that whatever she touched could not be anything short of perfect.

When Shimizu suddenly reached out to squeeze Hitoka’s nervous, sticky fingers with her cool hands, Hitoka almost squawked.

"Absolutely not!" Shimizu said with knee-melting conviction. "The design you came up with is so good, I would just hate not to do it justice."

At that Hitoka did, unfortunately, squawk. No one could blame her, though, she thought as she struggled not to hyperventilate and spectacularly failed at it.

"I-if you think so!" She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed to whatever deity was in charge of the script for her imaginary date that the next scene wouldn’t have her faint. Would be such a shame to break the skin contact.

"I do," said Shimizu with a smile, and Hitoka’s brain exploded into a shower of confetti and church bells loud enough to wake the dead. She collapsed weakly into the nearest chair.

"Let's work hard!" she said. "I mean, I'll work hard! Thank you!"

 

The next two hours passed by unnoticed, because Hitoka spent most of them stealing glances at Shimizu and filing away every little detail into the (comprehensive and annotated) chronicles of their imaginary dating (currently featuring seven thick volumes and counting in the recesses of Hitoka’s brain) - the glint of the needle in her graceful fingers, the fall of her hair, every light beam reflecting off her glasses. Hitoka’s own (somewhat less diligent) progress with the sewing was put to a halt by a small cough from Shimizu.

"Ahm. Hitoka-chan- "

"Yeash?!" Hitoka straightened up and nearly stabbed her finger in alarm. "Are you alright? Do you need me to bring some water?"

 _I am at your service_ , dream Hitoka whispered, gently embracing Shimizu's shoulder for comfort. _Do you want the moon and the stars? You shall have it._ Hitoka tried not to get into the specifics of it. Dream Hitoka was graceful and capable and surely would figure out the logistics of doing that or any other sweeping gesture that Shimizu was undoubtedly worthy of.

Real-life Hitoka didn’t hold a candle to her dream version, but there were some things she could do, too.

"I can call the nurse!" Hitoka jumped up when Shimizu didn’t answer her immediately. Her brain suggested all the scenarios of escorting Shimizu to the nurse's office, offering a shoulder for her to lean on (though even in the daydream Hitoka realized that it would probably be herself who'd need support when confronted with an armful of Shimizu Kiyoko), and then waiting silently by her bedside, holding her hand and maybe reading her a book...

"Please, don’t! I'm fine! Absolutely."

"Oh." She didn't deflate much - after all, it was good that nothing bad had happened - but still made a mental note of the two books that would make for a good bedside reading for a patient. One could never know when these things might come in handy. Hitoka contemplated adding a few of her favourite manga volumes to the list, but wasn’t sure if that would be up Shimizu’s alley. What if she preferred proper books? Did creatures of such sophistication even read comics? How about light novels? They could be a good compromise.

In her frantic planning it took Hitoka a good few minutes to realize that Shimizu hadn’t actually said anything yet. In fact, she wasn’t sewing, either, or doing anything besides giving an odd look in the direction of her bag, arms folded over her knees.

Terrified that she might have committed some unforgivable social faux pas, Hitoka froze in her chair. “Shimizu-san? Is everything alright?”

Shimizu gave a small sigh, nodded imperceptibly, and still refused to look up.

Hitoka felt the blood turn cold in her veins. She had ruined everything, hadn’t she. She had either blurted something out loud again, or Shimizu had read everything on her face or by some other divine means, and the general patheticness and inappropriateness of Hitoka’s thoughts was so unsurmountable that Shimizu fell silent under the weight of the revelation. Hitoka closed her eyes in apocalyptic dread; even dream Hitoka had no smooth solutions or magical fix-its to a defeat so crushing.

“Hitoka-chan, I was thinking,” Shimizu said, eventually, and Hitoka forced her eyes open. Existential despair over a ruined life was not a good enough reason deny yourself the sight of Shimizu talking, after all. Shimizu took a deep breath, which threatened to scatter Hitoka’s focus into smithereens once more, looked straight at Hitoka and continued. “If you don’t mind, or don’t have other plans - though I understand if you do - do you want to go out after this? F-for ice-cream. Or something. Whatever you prefer.”

In the ringing silence of the empty Home Economic class, Shimizu’s voice got smaller with every syllable. Hitoka’s heart, on the contrary, was beating like a temple gong in some ninja village hidden high up in the mountains.

“Yes!” Hitoka said in what had to be her highest voice yet. “I mean no! I don’t mind at all!!”

“I’m glad.” Shimizu’s laughter was a million fountain drops breaking the surface of the water. Hitoka could listen to the sound forever.

Dream Hitoka was probably jealous, she thought in a daze. Shimizu of her daydreams did nothing of the sort: she was an expert in demure smiles and infatuating glances from behind the curtain of her hair, but Hitoka could have never expected a relieved laughter like this from her dream date. From the same lips that had just asked Hitoka out for an ice-cream date. It might not mean anything, but it also meant the world.

Yachi closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the bliss. In her mind, she opened a book of entirely new chronicles that would start today.

Their title would read, 50% Less Imaginary Dates That Really Happened. Eat that, dream Hitoka.

**Author's Note:**

> you probably knew what it was (going to be) right from the get-go, but i hope you liked it still, give or take a missed delivery date :')
> 
>  
> 
> many thanks to rinka for helping me wrestle the typos in this *betta fin-five*


End file.
